


Military Intelligence

by teachair (halavana1)



Series: Wimsey between stories fanfics [1]
Category: Lord Peter Wimsey - Dorothy L. Sayers
Genre: Gen, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 11:12:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halavana1/pseuds/teachair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Major Wimsey and Sergeant Bunter go for a reconnaissance  stroll along the front during World War 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Military Intelligence

Silently the two men walked through the wood, Sergeant Bunter in front of Major Wimsey at first. This order changed as they progressed onto a path. The sergeant shifted to the left of the officer and then shifted again, walking along behind him.  
“Bunter, make up your mind where you want to walk,” said the major quietly.  
“Yes, sir,” replied Bunter. His attention, however, was focused elsewhere. Suddenly, Bunter snatched Wimsey’s service revolver from his holster, turned and fired. A German soldier fell forward from behind a tree they had just passed, a single wound between the eyes. Wimsey was about to turn on his NCO swearing, when he saw the sergeant’s face and was briefly mesmerized by the transformation from fear to an unreadable blank as the man took slow, deep, measured breaths. Without waiting for orders, Bunter replaced the pistol in Wimsey’s holster, strode to the body, gathered the German’s weapons, rolled the corpse into a ditch and covered it with leaves and grass so that it appeared only as a wind blown pile. As Bunter rejoined Wimsey, their eyes met.  
“Best we move on, sir. No telling how many there may be.”  
“Right,” agreed Wimsey. “Quite right, sergeant. Quite right. Did you see…?”  
“Only a shadow, moving, sir.”  
“And…?”  
“I suspect the plan may have been to shoot me in the back, and take you alive, sir.”  
“Of course. I expect you to defend yourself.”  
“Begging your pardon, sir, a shot in the back ends my worries and pains. Being taken alive only begins yours.”  
“Point well taken, sergeant.” As they set off again, Wimsey heard Bunter sigh and swallow, but when he glanced over his shoulder, the sergeant’s face was sphinx-like. My gawd, what have I got here? he wondered to himself. As they approached their own trenches, Wimsey glanced at the sergeant. “You’re not afraid of anything, are you, sergeant.”  
“Afraid, sir? No sir, I think not,” he replied. “Terrified? Well now, that I will admit to. But merely afraid?” He shook his head quickly, the shadow of a smile playing across his lips.  
Wimsey looked directly in his NCO’s eyes and seeing the humor there, laughed. “We shall look mere fear in the face with derision! For we have lived to tell the tale of how we met terror!”


End file.
